


You Look Good ( In My Shirt )

by simbascrawls



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, In the past anyway, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simbascrawls/pseuds/simbascrawls
Summary: One night can't fix everything like a miracle, but maybe it can be the start of working things out. Just so they can see each other like this, one more time in the morning.





	You Look Good ( In My Shirt )

**Author's Note:**

> This happened because I listen to too much country. I highly recommend listening to 'You Look Good in My Shirt' by Keith Urban if you'd like to get in the groove of where I was while writing this.
> 
> Also a little birthday present to myself.

Background noise is filled with the chatter of other bar goers, glass against wood, and there's the bitter smell of alcohol in the air. All of which Jean drowns out unless he's smelling the alcohol from his own drink surrounded by the coldness of ice before he lets it burn a path of fire down his throat and into his stomach. It warms the blood in his veins as a buzz finally starts to settle in around the edges of his thoughts, making the ache in his legs fade into the background. He hasn't been back to walking around for very long, but the residual aches are suppose to leave soon and Jean fully intends to get back into duty when that happens... even if right now the bar he's in is tucked away in a corner of his home town. Originally, it seemed like the best place to get a drink and try to drown a few stray thoughts now that the major problems have settled down some.

Maybe on some level he's just denying the fact that the's hiding. The thought alone makes his chest ache slightly and his hand tighten around his glass, callouses pressing into the perspiration on the sides.

Dark eyes and dark hair flood in from his memory, a voice that held the knowledge that he knew what he was doing. Jean can remember with too-sharp clarity of the shout of his name when Lust stabbed him, can recall the fuzzy knowledge of Roy being next and burning both of their injuries to stop the bleeding before going after her. It haunts his waking hours, those memories, the pain. He downs the last of his drink to help push them away before ordering another only for new memories to follow.

These are warmer, tinted with a bittersweet after taste as if it's still lingering on the back of his tongue like the alcohol.

There's dark eyes on him, warmth as rough hands meet his skin in time with his threading through dark hair. Lips find their way to his from his jaw, a strong arm holding him close despite the height difference. It's hard to shake them off, the impact the touches have on him and the other knows. The knowledge settles their in those eyes that always know more than the other man has ever let on and Jean trusts it. He trusts that look, that man, and everything that he would say to him without question. It's loyalty and trust too deeply carved into his bones for him to ever mistake for anything else alongside the genuine care and love.

Love.

It's something he wouldn't admit to himself and even now he keeps it quiet, tucked away against his ribcage like some deadly secret to never be revealed. Certainly not under the circumstances. He had broken it off long ago because he couldn't keep holding onto that secret anymore.

And now he's hiding away as if he, himself, is some kind of secret and he has to laugh at himself about it.

"You look like you could use some company."

Jean's eyes lift up and his mind snaps back to reality, away from those self-deprecating thoughts in favor of the woman in front of him. She's beautiful and there's nothing that the blond could argue with as far as looks go, but he knows all too well that he is not one for company tonight. He wouldn't be the kind of gentleman she deserves and he is perhaps too honest with himself about that as he gives her an apologetic smile.

"Maybe, but I'm no good company right now. If you know my meaning."

His gaze drifts to his glass getting another refill and her's follow as understanding slightly dims her smile and he can tell that perhaps she's seen a heartbroken man before sitting alone in a bar. She gives a nod and returns her gaze to him with honesty falling into the green color.

"Yeah, well, whoever they are -- looks to me like they missed out and if you change your mind, even just for a chat, I'll be over there."

"I'll be sure to be keeping that in mind, m'lady."

That gets a soft laugh from her before bidding her goodbyes and Jean is left with the remembrance of another kind of laughter. It's deeper, a bit more breathless, but there and in his ear where he can't escape the warm.

He downs his glass again, not yet drunk, but solidly buzzed and he's asking for another drink when the hands fall over his eyes and he hears a far too familiar voice speak in his ear.

"Guess who."

Warmth floods his veins faster than the alcohol, lightning up his spine like it's striving to bring those memories back to life. The phantom touches, the slide of sheets under the movement of two bodies. The kisses that could stop and start his heart, those lips holding him captive -- he doesn't let the impact show. He's done it before in worse circumstances. There's a twinge from his legs to remind him of that.

Instead, his shoulders relax and laughter slides from his lips that still taste like whiskey.

"Joana?"

"No."

"Danny? Hannah?"

"No, and no ---"

"David? Wait, no, Keith or... maybe Elizabeth?"

"No."

Jean can't tell if the strain he hears in the other's voice is from trying not to laugh or because he's hurt that he hasn't guessed yet. He doesn't want to place his hope where he might get hurt so he goes with the former.

"Hm.. then, maybe, nah, it couldn't be... Colonel?"

And just like that the hands fall down and the blond turns his seat to look up at the man that's actually shorter than him with laughter he doesn't fully feel in his voice. His last guess is right, but he knew that from the start. Standing beside him is the now Fuhrer, Roy Mustang himself. The man looks vaguely annoyed at him before sliding all-too gracefully into the seat next to him.

"Jeez, took you long enough. Just how many people did you use that wheelchair to seduce?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe... five. The charm was really the facial hair, had to shave it to keep them off of me."

"I can only imagine, you're one hell of a man, Jean. It's going to keep more than shaving to keep the men and women off you."

The blond swears that he hears Roy's voice drop, like he's hit something that's too close to both of their chests to be named. And yet, it's also too honest for Jean to completely ignore it as he takes a drink from his glass instead of downing it this time. He doesn't want to completely lose his head here, blue eyes focusing on the man he served under for years. The same one he told needed to keep going, the same one who would only do so if Jean promised that he'd meet him there.

It's hard not to wonder if they've made it to the top yet, together, or if they ever will. Or if there is just going to be unspoken words between them no matter how long they walk together.

"Says a lot coming from you, with your reputation as a lady's man yourself."

"Well, someone has to try and keep up with you."

"Mhm, I'm sure you're leagues ahead of keeping ahead of me, Colonel -- or, I guess it's Fuhrer now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, guess it is. It's going to take some getting use to."

There's a pause that seems heavier than it should, pressing into both of their backs as Roy orders a drink. It's not hard for them to both notice that Jean has yet to use his usual term of 'Chief' or even Roy's name. He's not sure if he should, not with how things went between them before the incident with Lust. They haven't worked that out, they haven't even gone as far as to acknowledge out-loud that it happened... and Jean is reluctant to risk the last threads of their friendship over it.

"I'll bet, but I'm curious what the Fuhrer is doing in a backwater bar like this. The only time you've come around here was when I invited you during birthdays, the red toy car you got for my brother is still holding up."

"Yeah? I would have thought it would have rusted up by now."

"Nah, Mama picks it up once every week to clean it along with grandpa's cane, and my older brother's bear. She'll bring 'em back to the grave stones with a fresh set of smokes to replace the old one's at Jim's grave, too, for me."

Roy only nods there, knowing well how Jean's mother tends to the many graves that her family has turned into alongside Jean's best friend's grave. They both know well how many times Jean would also stop by to visit, the relationship between him and his mother was strained, but he was all she had left. She had lost her mind after she had visited Jean in the hospital, Roy had seen it and the memory has him tightening a fist against his side and his eyes locked on the glass in front of him before he continues.

"I'll have to get everybody flowers before I leave then, I came to check on you. I heard you were finally able to get around to walking normally and this is the first place I thought you would go."

Jean doesn't say anything for a moment before he falls back on the kind of honesty he knows Roy will catch and hold onto for what it means, what it really means. His eyes stare straight ahead as he speaks, as if that'll give him everything he needs.

"Actually, I went to your apartment first. Riza was the one that told me you were out doing important Fuhrer things so I came here. Surprised I didn't fall on my ass getting to the bar stool."

That one gets a reaction that he honestly kind of expected, knowing the other man as long as he has. There's a lot of things that can be read between the lines and Jean doesn't move nor add onto what he's said even as Roy's eyes cut over him sharply. It's an intensity that would cause him to shiver if it were a different situation, but it's not. So he suppresses it easily.

"Jean, are you seriously telling me that you came all the way here before you had even completely recovered?"

There's no mistaking the unspoken part that Jean went to Roy's home first, but they both can feel the weight of it.

"I was tired of sitting down and I wanted to see some familiar faces."

He can feel the shift of their conversation, the fact that everything is spoken in way that what's really said lingers between the words. As if they're writing in invisible ink underneath the black they've already scribbled down.

"You came a long way to just see some faces."

"So did you."

"Maybe some faces are worth going a long way for."

"Maybe. I mean, you're here."

"I am and we've both got whiskey. Any chance we could finish them off and go visit your house?"

There's a snort of laughter from Jean, shaking his head. It's like he's waving off the humor while also trying to rid himself of the reminders swirling in his head of all the things that agreeing to his proposal could lead to. His heart aches, wondering if maybe there's hope that his feelings are returned. That maybe the pitter patter skipping of his heart is in someway returned. A bittersweet kind of hope that he swallows down with the last of his glass, sliding payment onto the counter before facing Roy. His eyes haven't lost their intensity and it's more distracting than Jean can put into words.

"You wanting to get Mama to make you dinner?"

"Actually, I'd prefer you cooking dinner, we both know that you could open your own restaurant if you wanted to."

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's the truth."

It is, Jean's cooked a lot of meals since he was a kid and, at times, he had made breakfast for Roy. A lovesick way of trying to get the other man to stay for just a little while longer, so Jean could fool himself just a few more moments that everything wasn't just one-sided. That the pounding in his heart just from having Roy's hand brush against his own despite having shared a bed with him that same night -- wasn't insanity. He's fairly sure now that it is, it's the reason that he broke it off. Told him that they should go back to the way things were because it would be better. Shamefully, he never admitted his reasoning despite having agreed to the arrangement.

It was his problem to deal with, he didn't want to burden Roy.

He wanted to help him, but he couldn't comfort him like that any longer. He couldn't keep taunting himself with something he couldn't have, letting himself fall into a lie that wasn't true.

Maybe there were a few screws loose from being through war, but Jean wasn't a man that was fond of torturing himself.

"Even so, can't really cook you anything when I don't have anything ready."

"I'll settle for some nice conversation."

When his eyes lock on those, there's already a sigh coming from the blond's lips and a hand ruffling its way through his hair. Even after so long, he's weak to those eyes and his heart is soft for the other man. Jean is standing before he finishes his next sentence.

"Alright, but don't be expecting anything fancy. I know Mama's out with Carla from the bakery tonight and I don't feel like going shopping."

Roy gives out a chuckle all his own before he's standing alongside Jean, still shorter than him, but carrying a presence that the blond can feel as though it was the other way around.

They don't link hands on the way home or slide too close together, Jean isn't expecting a fairy tale -- although he has an idea of what might happen when they get to his place. However, Jean can feel the warmth from the man beside him in comparison to the cool night air. The two walk close enough that their arms might bump together if they moved just have a step closer, but they don't. All they do is continue on the path with steps in sync in a way that neither of them ever lose pace to the other while a subtle knowledge presses against both of their backs.

"You planning to stay for the whole night, or do you got a room over at Marlo's Bed and Breakfast."

"Depends if you mind."

That's a no, and Jean should really tell him he should go back to Marlo's -- they have the kind of coffee he knows Roy likes.

Instead, he shrugs as he pulls out a cigarette and light it.

"I don't mind, you can sleep in my room."

He's too buzzed to make clear decisions around saying no to Roy, but he's given up already. He's a lovesick fool and he's going to let this ride on out. Just one more time. Whether it breaks his heart or not.

"Yeah? Is your room actually cleaned this time?"

Roy doesn't make a comment on Jean's cigarette, even when the wind blows the smoke in his direction. He doesn't so much as cough --- he knows how much Jean needs them to help with the twitch in his fingers or the lingering voices and sounds of gunfire. He knows, he's been there. He doesn't say anything about when Jean loses his footing for a moment either. All he does is steady him and let the conversation continue as if it never happened.

Maybe he's a little too good at that, Jean thinks, but doesn't say anything about it either.

"Should be, not like I've been in it too much in the last couple weeks to make it a mess."

"Didn't you drop off your bags when you got here?"

"Nope, didn't bring any."

Jean doesn't mention that Roy doesn't have any either.

Roy doesn't mention that would mean Jean went straight to the bar when he got here.

Neither one of them say how it's obvious Roy came here for Jean, although Jean mostly does it to lessen any hope he might have for the other man's reasoning behind it.

They let the breeze coming from the lake highlight the missing words before they finally make it to the blond's old home. It's a large farmhouse like building with a wrap around porch and a creak to the wood that tells its age as they climb the steps. Roy remembers visiting here and Jean showing him where he would sneak out his window so he could climb up to the roof as a kid and watch the stars. He also remembers kissing the blond under them because it seemed to perfect, but Jean then broke the agreement not long after and before Roy to express the ache to his chest at not being with him. Or the desire to take his hand.

While the shorter man is caught in an old memory, Jean unlocks the door and moves them inside where the lock sounds like a death sentence in the quiet stillness. Roy knows he has to say something, meanwhile Jean wonders if they're about to fall back into old patterns.

Instead, the blond is pushed into the door and Roy's lips are on his before he can think. It's just as he remembers, the fire alchemist lighting fires inside his veins from one kiss alone. It's not even a deep one because while he's held against the door --- Jean can read the hesitation in the lines of the other man's body. Roy is waiting to see if he'll push him away and the blond easily could. They're both soldiers, but Roy's hold on him isn't forceful so it'd take no effort at all.

His heart skips a beat before his own arms are wrapping around the other man and pressing into the kiss. The shorter man wastes no time.

The warmth of his tongue glides over Jean's bottom lip and it takes no thinking to part his lips and accept the mingling and soon fight for dominance. A fight that Roy easily wins in the end, Jean's mind fogging up as the lines of the other man's body holds him against the door where he has no wish to escape. It's a feeling he revels in, helping to support him leaning even further in before there's a leg between his and the blond can feel himself stirring already... it's been such a long time and judging from what he can feel, Roy is in the same boat.

Yanking him closer, Jean revels in the sound that comes from Roy in response and pushes the memories that flood into him with it. He doesn't want to worry about that right now. He would much rather live in the moment for as long as it lasts. His hands map out every curve of the Fuhrer's body again to memorize all the things he might have forgotten. It gets him the response of hands in his hair tugging him down further before yanking of his jacket which soon followed by Roy's and then their shirts. The articles fall to the floor with no care of where they're going, but still pushes them apart for just a moment and then things still.

Both of their chests are moving in time with their breathes, but their eyes remain locked. Bright blue and intense brown. Jean doesn't like the pause, doesn't like that it's starting to let his sense creep in.

And then Roy speaks.

"I should have never let you get away."

"Roy..."

"No, I shouldn't have let you go so easily, I shouldn't have been so blind."

Jean can hear his heart beating in his ears, loud and fast and picking up in speed. He doesn't want to hope...

"I don't think I've ever regretted anything more, Jean."

_I love you._

The words are there, in red ink between the black lines that Roy has written and Jean can't stop himself from moving to crash their lips again once more. An answer all his own because it's not a kiss that's made of all heat. There's relief and love and genuine hope that Jean prays doesn't get shattered. It only starts heating up again when hands begin to wander and they have to tear themselves apart with a light laugh.

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

They don't even have to say anything else before they're racing each other up the stairs and laughing while they toss off their clothes. Shoes end up in the hallway, socks dropped on the stairs, and pants hit the floor just outside of Jean's room. By then, both of them are down to just their underwear and Jean's legs are starting to ache in the middle of the kiss so Roy pushes him down onto the bed after kicking the door shut. There's little time between before the dark haired man is kissing Jean with everything he has and the blond is returning every inch. The taste of him is so familiar, sharpened by the alcohol that he can taste along the edges of their lips sealed together.

It slows when Roy starts to kiss along his jaw, trailing those lips down his neck next. Jean can't stop the shiver that dances up and down his spine which just results in Roy smirking, followed closely by Jean laughing.

"Are you trying to eat me?"

"Maybe."

The smile is all too natural as it crosses over Jean's features, using his elbows to lift himself up enough to lock eyes with the dark ones staring back at him. Fuck, the man is too beautiful.

"What are you waiting for then?"

"I'm taking my time, don't want you to lose the ability to talk just yet."

"And here I thought there was going to be a little less talk and a lot more action."

"Are you really quoting a country song while I'm trying to be sexy?"

"Maybe."

And just like that, they both burst out laughing. It settles around their shoulders like a familiar blanket because this is simply them... and, Roy knows, Jean. Sex with him has never been something so series, it's fun just like it should be. He loves it. The lightheartedness of it all brings warmth and light into his chest that only Jean has ever really been able to put there, at least in the way that he does. Always one to stick with Roy through thick or thin, Jean was what kept him going when he wanted to give up... but for now. He focuses on the moment, biting into the man's hip right where he remembers clearly is a weakness while tugging down his boxers.

Roy is rewarded with a gasp that cuts off the blond's laughter with a jerk of his hips that helps him slide the cloth down further and then finally off.

"Then I guess I better get to that action."

He's teasing, joking with him --- but then his eyes hit the scar on Jean's skin. Memories flood in, panic and the smell of blood. The sight of the other man falling to the ground --- it comes rushing back, but then Jean's hands are on his face and Roy is jerked back to reality with a wetness against his cheeks.

"I didn't know it could rain in my room..."

Jean presses a kiss to both of his cheeks before he can respond, stock still and feeling like he's lost his footing... but he doesn't feel unsafe with it. Not here. Not with Jean, and that speaks more words than he could ever hope to say.

"Jean..."

"Shh, it wasn't your fault. I know you took it that way, Roy, but it wasn't. It was something that happened and hey, I got vacation time."

"Most people wouldn't consider being in a wheelchair, Jean, stop joking around.."

"Fine. It was hard, it was horrible, but Roy that doesn't make it your fault. I know you looked into every way you could find to get me back on my feet."

"How did you ---"

"I was looking, too, I didn't take losing my legs laying down."

The lines to Jean's face are hard ones and all Roy can do is press his hand to the scar before the blond is moving a hand from his cheek to take it.

"That scar means you saved my life and, hey, my legs are getting better. I'm not in that chair anymore. I'm here, with you."

"... I wouldn't want you anywhere else."

Fuck, that hits Jean so hard that he has to kiss the man and mutter against his lips.

"That's all that matters."

Then his other hand moves to lay over Roy's own scar from that night.

"And besides, we're a matching pair."

They don't say much after that for several long minutes, too busy with one another's lips to bother. Roy doesn't move his hand from over Jean's scar, instead intertwining their fingers and slowly laying the blond down as the other hand goes into one of his drawers. If he knows Jean, he knows exactly where to find what he's looking for. And he's right. His fingers wrap around the bottle and pull it back out as he withdraws from the kiss.

"Exact same place you keep it in your apartment."

"Had to make sure it was where I would remember it."

"Uh huh."

Both of them laugh a little before Roy slides back down to where he was, never letting go of the other man's hand. Jean angles himself just right so that he can watch, heat filling into his eyes alongside love that overrides it all. Then Roy presses a kiss to his scar and Jean's heart squeezes in his chest from how much he loves this man, it's something that doesn't really lessen and instead grows as Roy continues on and the blond falls into the pleasure of the kisses.

His lips trail down, nipping at his hip again just for the jerk he knew it would get him, smiling against the skin. That's when Roy pops open the lube and, not wanting to release Jean's hand, uses only one to flip it and dump some into his palm before dropping it onto the sheets. He presses a kiss to the dip of his hips and slides the slick substance over his hand and fingers, carefully rubbing them together to warm it up.

Jean is just about to make a smartass comment when another kiss is dropped against his skin, but this time to the tip of his dick. It doesn't do a lot, but it certainly gets his attention enough for him to bite his bottom lip instead and shoot Roy a look. One that Roy easily returns with a smirk before giving him a lick and Jean groans.

"You're going to be the death of me if you keep going at this pace."

"I thought I was the one who saved your life."

"So did I, looks like you're going to be the end of it, too."

They both know that Roy isn't going to go any faster, that point highlighted by the kiss he goes to trail down to the tip while his finger circles Jean's asshole. This isn't the first time that they've done this, but it's usual not something this slow. This careful and sweet.. and they like it. Even if it's like fire under Jean's skin and Roy's boxers are definitely tighter than they were an hour ago. Jean's heart is still fluttering in his chest like a schoolboy with a crush and all Roy wants to do is give Jean everything he's got.

So the pace doesn't change, instead, Jean tightens his fingers around Roy's and Roy returns the squeeze as if that's what will bring them even closer.

"I think I can live with that."

"... So can I."

Jean's voice goes breathless as Roy presses his finger into the other at the same time that he takes the blond into his mouth. The free hand flies up to tangle itself in dark hair as his hips quiver with repressed need to jolt forward into his partner's mouth. He doesn't want to choke him, focusing on breathing. When he watches Roy, he feels his skin light up, the man playing him as easily as he uses the fire alchemy he is known for.

That finger moves around inside him, causing him to shift against his own desire to stay still and Roy presses his arm down without releasing Jean's hand to help him stay still. It's slow going with how long it's been, but the familiarity with the process helps him loosen up for Roy to add a second finger. Both of them work from the inside to open him up while the dark haired head between Jean's legs starts to move up and down --- and that tongue starts to use real magic. His breath is stolen from with his lungs and his fingers tug a big at Roy's hair. If he doesn't let up, Jean won't last long at all. It's been too much time since the last that he's been able to do this, any of this, and he's so sensitive. Maybe it's the time length. Maybe it's just Roy's skill --- or maybe it's just because it's Roy.

He isn't really sure, but Roy relents a bit and Jean finds a bit of room to breathe with the other man's name falling from his lips like some sort of lost prayer. Then Roy's hand tightens on his own... and there's no mercy for Jean in sight.

Roy drops his head down, fully deep-throating him.

" _Roy, sto- p, I'm 'bou--- !!_ "

The other man doesn't heed the warning, wants the results. His fingers change their objective and instead aim right for Jean's prostate, where they hit dead center because Roy remembers.

And Jean's got, letting loose inside his partner's mouth with Roy's name on his tongue heavier than the now fading whiskey.

Slowly, Roy pulls his head back and doesn't even hesitate in swallowing. His fingers stop moving, but they don't withdraw because they both know that they're honestly not done quite yet. Instead, he leans up to litter kisses over Jean face as he catches his breath with a heart stopping fondness in his eyes. One that Jean can't ignore, pulling the other man into a kiss and squeezing his hand. There's no hesitation in Roy returning it and then deepening it further, tongues dancing together in a way that robs them both of their air to the point they have to part.

"You're so beautiful."

Roy's voice is breathless, but there's honesty and love in the dark eyes that Jean knows so well. He's smiling like a dope in response and doesn't give a single damn about it.

"Speak for yourself."

"Mm... but I'm the one that got to see your face when you finished. With my name."

"Who else am I going to call? Gregory?"

"I'd hope not."

"Well, no need to worry because it's only you."

"And you."

Jean ends up shifting when they meet again for a kiss, gasping when Roy's fingers brush against his prostate inside him.

"Don't think we're done just yet."

The smirk on Roy's face is almost enough to make Jean hard again.

"Haven't had enough yet."

"Not until you're satisfied, too."

They both snort with a bit of a laugh before there's a quick kiss and Roy's fingers are moving again. Jean ends up moving with them, hypersensitivity drawing more moans from him than he means to allow past his lips. Roy can't get enough of them, adding a third finger and being slow and deliberate to the point that the blond is already seeing stars before adding more lube to the mix. It makes the movement even easier, but also makes the sounds far more obvious and Jean can feel his face heating up with that and the attention before finally speaking with his voice cracking.

"R- oy! I'm --- ready, 'lready!"

Roy doesn't need to be told more than once, he was already holding on tight to his self-control. So he withdraws his hand carefully and yanks down his boxers, not bothering to take them off. It would take too long and instead he smears more lube onto himself. All the while, his other hand doesn't let go of Jean's and the blond watches him through half lidded eyes filled with heat that he just can't ignore. He ends up kisses him again before making sure.

"Ready?"

"Yes!"

And that's the last of it, with consent granted, Roy positions himself before pushing forward. Jean forces himself to relax and instead only squeezed their joined hand, a motion that Roy returns. It's slow and careful because Roy wants to make sure that there's no pain for the other. He's tighter than he can remember from their time apart, their time without this. When he does make it to the hilt, he lets out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding and looks to Jean's face.

He's beautiful with his hair a mess, cheeks fully flushed and creeping down his neck and chest, and the dazed and loving look in his eyes as he looks at him. There's a part of his heart that stings at that look. Roy almost lost this, lost him. All because he couldn't think to speak his feelings and because he couldn't fight for him. That wasn't something that he was going to let happen. Not again. Never again.

"Jean..."

The blond's name comes out on a rasp and a groan at the same time, arms quaking before he starts moving. It's a slow and deliberate movement of hips that has sweat slicking their skin and the sheets shifting around them, sticking slightly, but too preoccupied to really care. Roy's eyes won't leave Jean's face and Jean is trying to keep his eyes open, to return the gaze, but when the other man shifts a specific way, it steals his already heavy breath and rocks his vision. He has to tangle his free hand in Roy's hair, the other tightening even further on his hand just to keep himself from feeling like he's floating away.

His hips arch forward to help the other get an even better angle and Roy adds to it by grabbing Jean's thigh and pulling his leg over his shoulder --- and it lets him hit the blond just the right way and he's already hard again and teetering. It'd be embarrassing with anyone else, but here he doesn't care. If anything, he knows that Roy is going to be smug about it and some part of him knows that Roy isn't that far from the edge either with how his rhythm doesn't quite stay consistent. There's short falters that are slowly growing longer in how long they last until that's all it is and Roy is leaning forward from exertion with hair clinging to his face, the base of his spine tightening like a coil.

Jean pulls him into a sloppy kiss, lips off kilter and missing their target, and perfect just like that.

"Roy -- I'm close... together?"

There's a catch in his voice, desperation and hope mingling in the tone as well as the melted ice of his eyes. Roy wouldn't be able to deny him anything with him looking like that even if he wanted to.

"Yes, yes, Jean, together."

And they're kissing again, noses bumping and lips sliding as they do while Roy pushes to go faster with Jean doing his best to meet him with every thrust. They're both drove closer and closer to that edge before they finally, finally fall over with a call of each other's names.

For a breath, they hang there as they ride out their orgasms before Roy's arm buckles under his weight and he lands without grace onto Jean's chest. All Jean can do is chuckle breathlessly at that, taking Roy's face in hand and kissing him again which continues soft and slow and languid. They fit together well like this and Jean can't remember the last time his chest felt so light, despite the consistent weight of Roy's body sprawled across his own. He might even feel lighter this way.

When they finally part it's so Roy can pull out as their fingers untangle only now. There's a lazy shift of bodies because both of them are tired, but still find a way to wiggle themselves beneath the sheets as the sweat on their skin cools. All the same, they stay close and Roy presses a kiss to the blond's forehead.

"We need a shower."

"Mmm, too tired."

"Take it in the morning?"

"Yeah, sleep for now."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Look forward to seeing you in my shirt come morning."

Roy chuckles, Jean having called him out in his habit when they did this before. He would always steal a shirt in the morning, letting the bigger shirt swallow most of his form while the blond cooked breakfast.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you in the morning, too. I miss seeing it."

"So have I."

This hasn't solved everything and the searching look that they share between them is evidence enough of that. Now isn't really the time for working it out, but they can do gratin the light of the rising son. In this moment, it's enough to know that they will both be together come sun up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this, please don't kill me because this is my first public work that's more maturely rated as I don't have much of a habit for writing things like this.


End file.
